


Daydreamer

by yourfmdial



Category: Simple Plan (Band)
Genre: Hott Baguettes, M/M, Smut, Standalone, hey hey we're the monkees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7252204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourfmdial/pseuds/yourfmdial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been years, literal years, since David and Pierre had even looked at each other in that way, but tonight something was different. Tonight, something was going to happen. And oh, it was going to be good if it did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daydreamer

**Author's Note:**

> So after a six year hiatus of not writing hott baguettes shizz, I present to you... this most ridiculous smuttery. Okay not that smutty. Just read it and thank me later.

Lights splashed over the dance floor and the latest thumping Justin Timberlake track came on for the fourth time since they’d been at the bar. David took a slow drink of his cocktail – vodka and something sweet and fruity. He’d started the night earlier with mojitos, but Jeff had ordered this drink for him on the last round with a grin. Whatever, he was comfortable enough with himself to drink a pink drink and not complain. Halfway through the song, after another few sips of the cocktail, he sensed a telltale numbness in his lips and he licked them nervously. How could he be getting drunk already? This was only his third drink, and it seemed like they hadn’t been that strong…

His mind rapid flashed through the day, fast forwarding through the two acoustic radio performances, tasting wine backstage at the first venue because it was a vineyard after all, a small hurried meal in the van en route to the next place, another drink there ‘to get things started’ the guys had said, and a pathetic plate of hummus and carrots for ‘dinner’ because apparently no one in Richmond Virginia was vegan. And now they were celebrating a good day of radio appearances at a bar and it was no surprise that he was drunk. He didn’t need any more alcohol, he needed food.   
His eyes swept over the club, seeing Jeff dancing with three women, Sebastien standing at a table to the side nursing a beer, and finally Pierre, who locked eyes with him and seemed to be heading his way already. Good, he thought, maybe they’d be leaving soon. David left the spot where he’d perched at the back of the bar and met the singer halfway. 

Pierre offered a vague smile. “Hey so, I don’t know if you’re ready to go-”

David didn’t let him finish. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

“You sure? Cause Jeff and Seb are-” 

“No, I’m ready. Might snap if I hear this song one more time.” 

The singer laughed. “All right.” He made a ‘follow me’ motion and David discarded his drink on the nearest table, following Pierre through the crowd and to the front entrance. 

The warm, humid night air enveloped them as soon as they got outside and David inhaled deeply, desperate to clear the buzz from his head. “Fuck I need food,” he said as he blew out the air. Thoughts of black beans and rice and guacamole tortured his taste buds and he glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even eleven – someplace had to be open still. Pierre gave him a sidelong glance from where he stood at the edge of the sidewalk. Was he seriously looking for a taxi? David kept his eye roll to himself and grabbed his phone from his pocket, requesting an Uber. 

“I thought you ate earlier?” the singer asked. 

David scoffed. “You mean that _snack_ I had as dinner?” He laughed then, shaking his head. “Shit no wonder I’m like… drunk.” 

Pierre frowned, still looking at him. “But you seem…” he trailed off, not quite sure how to say it, so he looked back to the street. His brows furrowed. Weren’t there any cabs in his city? 

David stepped beside him then. “I’m not _drunk_ drunk… but if I don’t eat something tonight then tomorrow’s gonna suck… and the protein bars I brought aren’t exactly gonna sober me up.” 

Pierre nodded slightly, then looked back at the street. 

David glanced at his phone. “The Uber’ll be here in a minute.” 

His face registered surprise as he looked back at David. “You got an Uber?” 

“Yeah… that’s what you do when you need a ride these days… taxis are so ten minutes ago,” he teased. 

Pierre laughed, his eyes wrinkling at the corners and he mussed his hair. “Fair enough… guess I don’t go out much anymore.” 

He smirked. “Yeah, last I checked you weren’t going out to places and coming home wasted.” 

“Don’t think Chelle would like that very much,” he replied. 

David’s smile was tight. “Probably not,” he said, voice lowering. He looked down at his phone again, checking the map, then the car make and model, shaking his head; people in the States sure loved their Subarus. When he looked back up he noticed Pierre texting, and a few more people had come out of the bar, some standing down the way and smoking, but all the others standing with their phones out, waiting for rides just like them. His stomach growled and he licked his lips, surprised that they were more numb now. He raked his hand back through his hair. If he didn’t eat he would be screwed tomorrow. He had no intention of being hungover and hated that this had happened. He should have declined going to the bar with everyone and found a place to eat instead. Everyone was so used to him going off to do his own thing anyway, why hadn’t he tonight? Because these few shows felt different somehow; without Chuck there to police them all everything was looser. They were able to have a little more fun without the constant watchdog stares of their drummer. It had been a long, long time since the vibe had been so casual between all of them. It was a welcome change. 

Fifteen seconds later a dark green Subaru pulled up in front of them, the driver rolling down the passenger side window. “David?” the guy asked. 

“Yeah, Brian?” 

The driver nodded. “Yep, get in, guys.” They slid in the backseat together and Brian offered a smile. “Where we headed?” he asked. 

“The closest food place that’s open… preferably Mexican… and not fast food,” David said. 

Brian laughed. “You’re in luck. I know this taco truck,” he replied. 

“Is there at least one vegan thing on their menu?” David asked, trying not to sound too desperate. 

He smiled in the rearview mirror. “Actually, yeah… why my girlfriend likes it.” 

“Thank fuck,” David sighed, then smiled back. “Let’s go.” 

Ten minutes later Brian dropped them off near another bar, where the taco truck was parked in a corner parking lot. Three people were in line in front of it and there were a few picnic tables set up in the lot. A spicy smell wafted from the truck and made David’s mouth water, his stomach growling again as they walked to the line. The night air was still warm, the sky clear and dark, the stars popping brightly. 

David stared up at the expanse as they waited in front of the truck, ignoring Pierre, who was still buried in his phone. An awkward silence had come between them in the Uber, David chatting with Brian about the city while Pierre texted. Now, back outside with the space above them, he realized once again why he and Pierre didn’t spend much time together anymore. The singer was always preoccupied with the device in his hand. It seemed the only times he could stand to be away from it were during the shows, or while he was surfing. The early mornings on the beach while they’d been recording had probably been the last time they’d spent any quality time together. Every other time it was David talking and trying to break the spell of technology. He blinked hard; he wanted everyone to wake up. 

The hand on his back startled him out of his thoughts and he looked at Pierre with curious eyes. The singer’s face shone with amusement as he pushed the bassist forward; the line was moving while David wasn’t paying attention. 

“Head outta the clouds, daydreamer…” 

He smiled; it had been a long time since he’d heard that nickname, though it was probably even more accurate now than it had been. He could still remember the day Pierre had coined it for him: They were playing a show in the Midwest and the venue was near a park. David had left after soundcheck and flopped onto the grass beneath the sunshine, staring at the clouds as they passed lazily in the summer breeze. It had been nearly an hour before anyone found him. Of course it had been Pierre. 

The singer grinned, sprawling out beside him. “The fuck are you doing?” he asked. 

David shrugged, not moving his eye from the sky. “Daydreaming.” 

A moment of silence passed between them, then Pierre started singing quietly. “Cheer up, Sleepy Jean… oh what can it mean.” 

“To a Daydream Believer, and a homecoming queen,” David instantly harmonized with him. 

They finally looked at each other, silly smiles on their lips, and Pierre moved his arm just slightly, pressing it against David’s as they lie on the grass together. 

David’s heart stuttered, lightning in his veins. Their fingers came together after a moment, Pierre chewing his lip nervously. David smiled, his gaze returning to the sky as he squeezed his friend’s hand. He lived for these moments between them, his daydreams coming to fruition. Pierre continued to hum the song he’d begun and happiness spread through David’s stomach; daydream believer indeed. 

“Yeah, I’ll get the chicken taco plate, the chips and salsa with two sides of guacamole, and… David, what do you want?” 

Pierre’s voice yanked him out of the memory and he blinked fast, scanning down the menu. “Uh…” Fuck, brain, work! The letters swam in front of him the more he stared at the board. “I’ll have the… uh…” he stalled, grateful his face was already flushed from the alcohol so his total embarrassment wouldn’t show. 

“Didn’t you just want the vegan thing?” Pierre asked after a second. 

DUH. His brain clicked then and he nodded, finally seeing the vegan option at the bottom of the menu. “Yeah… that.” 

The girl smiled at him patiently. “Sure. You want tacos or a bowl? The tacos come three to a plate, in soft corn shells.” 

He nodded again. “Both.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows. “Both?” she questioned. 

“Yeah, a taco plate and a bowl, please?” he asked, knowing he probably eat half of Pierre’s chips too. 

“Okay… anything else for you guys?” she asked, ringing them up. 

They shared a look as David started to get out his wallet, waving Pierre off. “Three bottles of water,” he said, pulling his card out. The girl grabbed the bottles, handing them to Pierre as David finished the transaction on the tablet. He thanked the girl with a smile before he stepped away from the truck, glancing back to Pierre. The singer handed him one of the cold bottles, then nodded to the table that had just cleared. David followed him wordlessly, opening the water and taking a few large gulps before they sat down across from one another. 

The singer eyed him. “You okay?” he finally asked, setting his phone face down on the table. 

He shrugged. “Just tryin’ to sober up… why?” 

Pierre chewed his lip. “You seem… more out of it than usual.” 

David laughed slightly, short exhales coming through his nose. “You haven’t seen me drunk in awhile,” he replied. 

Pierre frowned. “Because we never hang out anymore… you and Jeff or Chady always disappear before anyone else can make plans with you.” He paused. “It’s like you think no one else wants to hang out with you, but you never give us the chance to…” 

David wrapped his hands around the water bottle, listening intently. Pierre wasn’t wrong, but David hadn’t been acting that way intentionally. It was more that both Jeff and Chady would invite him along to things, so he’d do the same. Pierre seemed to think he was standing on the corner of a one-way street, failing to realize that it was actually two-way. David licked his lips; they weren’t so numb anymore. He inhaled slowly, letting another few seconds pass before he finally answered, offering a smile. “So what, the next time I head out on a Vespa you want an invite?” 

The singer shrugged. “Sure.” 

David held his gaze. “Okay… then the next time you and Chuck go out golfing, I expect the same.” Pierre’s mouth opened in an almost instant reply, or rebuttal, David wasn’t sure, but then his statement sank in. He could see the lightbulb turn on in his friend’s brain; message received, loud and clear. 

He nodded slowly. “Okay.” 

David smiled then. “Good.” 

“David!” 

His name was finally called from the truck and Pierre jumped up to get their food, easily stacking the plates and bowls to bring them back to the table. 

David grinned in satisfaction as he stared at the steaming bowl of rice and beans; there would be no hangover tomorrow after all. Wordlessly he dug the spoon into the bowl and started to devour the food, the cilantro and spices instantly clearing his head and sinuses. Across from him, Pierre moaned contently, swallowing the second bite of his taco. 

“Mm… good call, dude. This is like the trucks back home.” 

He nodded, his mouth full of the authentic Mexican fare; he knew Pierre definitely meant San Diego, not Montreal. That had been the only good thing about recording the last album in LA and staying in San Diego – so many good vegan places to enjoy, including all the Mexican places. If all else failed, he’d eat rice and beans every day, but there had always been somewhere new to try. 

They continued to eat in relative silence for a few minutes, exchanging happy, knowing looks as they chewed, and the quiet conversations of other satisfied customers floated around them. A couple on an obvious date had joined them at the other end of the table, and the girl kept giving them sidelong glances. After the third look, it was clear she was wondering if they were on a date, or something, and Pierre couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. It came all too easily to him. 

He grabbed a large chip and loaded it with salsa and guacamole. “Hey, daydreamer,” he called, tapping his foot against David’s under the table. 

David looked up, his eyebrow arched in a perfect question. 

“Open up,” he said. 

David smirked, seeing the girl’s eyes widen slightly. He leaned across the table, opening his mouth obediently. How many times had they used to do this with each other? 

Pierre carefully fed him the chip, his fingertips just brushing David’s lip as his mouth closed around it. He shivered slightly; he couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched like that, and maybe that was for the best… 

David hummed in satisfaction, licking his lips after he swallowed. “That is some good fuckin’ guacamole,” he said, reaching across the table to help himself to another couple tortilla chips. 

Pierre flashed a smile. “As good as mine?” he asked. 

He tilted his head in mock contemplation. “Mm, think I’d have to do a side-by-side taste test comparison on that one.” 

“Oh, come on…” 

Pierre pouted slightly, making David grin. “Sorry, babe,” he said, acutely aware that the girl down the table was still listening to them. Her cheeks flushed then and she stared down at her plate. 

“Fine,” Pierre said. “No more guac for you then,” he threatened. 

He smirked, leaning back over the table. “Hmm… what if I can make it up to you?” he asked, his voice going a little lower. 

“How?” the singer asked, leaning over as well, their eyes locked with one another. 

The girl was staring so hard at her plate, David thought it might spontaneously combust. “You know how,” he finally replied with a wink. 

Pierre matched his smirk, the girl’s face now entirely red. “Well in that case,” he said slowly, “save some room for later…” 

David’s smile was devilish. “Gladly.” 

Pierre reached for his water then, nonchalantly taking a sip as David had another chip, then licked his finger clean of the errant salsa juice, still not breaking his eye-contact with Pierre. 

“Babe,” the guy at the end of the table tried to get his girlfriend’s attention. “Do you want a bite of this?” he asked, pushing the plate toward her. She was oblivious to him, still so focused on David and Pierre. “Babe?” the guy tried again, reaching over to touch her hand, and she jumped, clearing her throat in surprise. 

“Oh! Sorry…” 

Pierre grinned at David then as the girl looked back at her date, her face still flushed. 

David kicked the singer’s shin lightly and rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to his tacos. 

He laughed, watching David inhale the three tacos, then finish off the rest of the chips and the other bottle of water. The couple finished and left before they did, and Pierre couldn’t help smiling and winking at the girl as she walked past to leave. 

David shook his head. “You are in rare form tonight,” he said, shifting to straddle the bench as they readied to leave. 

He grinned. “What can I say? You always did bring out the best in me…”   
He held back his eye roll, sending the request through for an Uber back to their hotel. “Best or worst?” he finally replied. They met eyes. 

“That’s probably debatable,” Pierre said after a moment, then gave him a wicked grin. 

David finished the last of his water, then got up, gathering their garbage from the table and taking it to the trashcan. Pierre joined him on the corner a moment later and they watched the truck close up – it was almost midnight. The last hour had evaporated in an instant. As they waited for their ride, David looked up to the stars again, picking out constellations and admiring the red glow of Mars near the moon. Pierre’s arm brushed against his then and his hair stood on end. 

Fuck. 

Even though he’d definitely sobered up by then, he still wasn’t immune to the man’s presence, and somehow he knew tonight was different too. This night didn’t feel like just another night on tour – it felt like how it used to be between them. Before his last three failed relationships, and before Pierre’s marriage. It felt like back when they both were young and wild and stupidly in love with each other, sneaking off to vacant rooms and closets, sharing joints before getting on the bus for hours and stealing kisses when they thought everyone was asleep. Turns out they’d really only been high, and so, so naïve. They couldn’t hide it forever, and life had come to get in the way anyway. Pierre fell head over heels for Lachelle, Jay for sick, and three years of ‘friends with benefits’ was swept aside and forgotten. 

He swallowed hard, feeling Pierre’s pinky wrap around his. 

Or so he thought. 

He glanced down briefly, sure enough seeing their fingers entwined. Oh shit. What was happening? Everything that had happened between them was supposed to be long over with… Pierre was married, for fuck’s sake. He was not allowed to do this. No. No way. 

David pulled his hand away from Pierre’s and checked his phone, ignoring his friend’s furrowed brows. There was no way he was going to explain why they couldn’t do what Pierre wanted to while standing in a nearly deserted packing lot at midnight. Pierre should know better anyway, David thought. He was the one with the most to lose. If anything, it should have been the other way around. Maybe if David had just let himself get drunk, then consequences be damned. He had nothing to lose. No kids, no girlfriend, no moral responsibilities… that had been the only benefit to breaking up with his girlfriend of three years right before the album came out – he had no shame about all the things he’d done while on tour in Europe. And he had done a lot. 

Before he could begin remembering all his sinful behavior in Europe (oh Amsterdam, such a cruel and tempting mistress), the Uber arrived. 

They climbed into the backseat together, David giving the driver their hotel information, and then they were speeding down the street, city lights blurring as they passed. Their driver was quiet, so David stared out the window. He gulped when he felt Pierre’s hand brush against his thigh. He knew there was enough distance between them that the move was intentional. 

What the fuck was Pierre thinking? Did Chuck have control of his conscience? The absence of their drummer was the only difference from two weeks ago to now. Unless David’s blatant displays of depravity had emboldened the singer to rekindle their sordid relations. 

He glanced over to his friend, seeing an almost hopeful look in Pierre’s eyes. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with such loose morals this time around, and if that was truly the case… fuck, they were so in for it. 

He looked down to his lap, seeing Pierre’s hand deliberately pressed against his leg. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse to see the man’s wedding band on his finger. It was a reminder for them both of what was at stake, and again David wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Instead of meeting Pierre’s eyes again, he turned his gaze back out the window, the silence holding between them until they got to the hotel. 

Pierre finally pulled his hand away as he got out of the car, and David had to suck in a steadying breath before he followed. Were they really going to do this? Pierre’s advances didn’t seem fake, but it would hardly be the first time the singer might’ve led him on. He licked his lips, chewing the bottom one slightly; sometimes he missed his lip ring profoundly, but then he’d remember all the times it had nearly been ripped out during some overzealous make-out sessions. A few of those times had been Pierre’s fault, and it made him smirk. They’d never kissed bare-lipped; there was a first time for everything. 

They walked into the hotel, through the nearly deserted lobby, and around the corner to the elevator bank, exchanging looks as an empty lift opened automatically. David stepped in after Pierre and no one joined them. 

“What floor?” Pierre asked. 

“Fourteen.” 

He punched the button and the doors slid closed. 

David stared at the lit number, wondering if they were staying on the same floor, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew they were only going back to his room, because his room was safer. Pierre didn’t want to taint his own room with his immorality; he’d always liked to keep his sins compartmentalized. It was just as well, though, David had never been good at the walk of shame when they’d done this in the past. If he was leaving Pierre’s room he’d inevitably run into Jeff or Chuck at the elevator and they’d wonder why A) he was on their floor, B) he was carrying his shoes, and C) he was going up and not to the lobby. Awkward silence would ensue and he’d wish for the elevator to swallow him whole, but it never did. 

He looked up, meeting Pierre’s eyes in the mirrored doors. If they did this, they had to live with it. 

Pierre had to live with it. 

He’d be cheating on his wife, and did he realize that? David hoped so, because he wasn’t about to have a discussion about it. He was long past trying to inform and make other people’s decisions. They were adults now, more than they’d ever been, and it wasn’t his responsibility to stop his friend putting his marriage in jeopardy. He’d already sent all the warnings he was going to, save for the last ditch effort. After that, it was all on Pierre. 

The elevator buzzed as it stopped at the fourteenth floor, and they both stepped out, Pierre following David down the quiet, empty hallway to his room. 

He pulled the keycard from his wallet, but didn’t unlock the door. Instead he turned around and looked intently at the older man. He raked his teeth over his lip before he spoke, his words even and measured. “I’m going to give you one last chance to go back to your room, and not do this tonight,” he said. “Because if we do this, I think only one of us is going to regret it… and it’s not going to be me.” 

Pierre’s smirk was slow and he shook his head, plucking the keycard from David’s hand and easily opening the door. “You always did try to ruin all my fun,” he said, pushing the bassist back into the room. 

He arched an eyebrow and the door shut loudly behind them, Pierre discarding the key onto the dresser beside the TV. 

His smirk deepened. “And I think the fun’s just about to get started.” 

All at once Pierre’s lips were on his, warm and wet and familiar, and he couldn’t think any more about right or wrong, because it was happening. He fisted the hem of the singer’s t-shirt in his hands, Pierre’s tongue hot in his mouth. It was most definitely happening. He kissed back recklessly, reaching up to grab the short hair and inhale heavily, suddenly drunk under Pierre’s spell. The last eight… nine… ten… however many fucking years it had been since they’d last done this didn’t matter. All he cared about was NOW and oh fuck that was definitely Pierre’s hand going to grab his ass inside his jeans. He moaned, dropping the shirt and reaching beneath it to hold the man’s hips – the muscles hard beneath his fingertips. He was at once aware of how their bodies had changed since they’d last been together – Pierre’s full and muscular, no longer hidden under a layer of bloat and bulk. He pushed the thoughts of his own insecurities out of his mind. His body was nothing new to Pierre; they’d seen each other like this countless times before and if anything he was skinnier now.   
A bite on his lip pulled him from the thoughts and he focused on the moment, on his hands, on Pierre’s pulsing skin under his fingers, on their mouths. 

Fuck, he had missed this. 

He leaned his head back, the singer’s tongue dragging down his neck and to his collarbone, then back up to just beneath his ear. He shuddered as Pierre sucked lightly on the lobe and he let his hands slide down the hips, inching slowly back to the man’s ass. He massaged his fingers into it firmly and Pierre groaned in his ear. He smirked, pressing deeper and feeling a sudden hardness between them. Apparently it wouldn’t take much to get Pierre’s dick to attention. He circled his thumbs over the muscles and he felt them quiver with his touch, the singer abruptly pulling away from his ear, eyes hazy. 

“I fucking want you,” he whispered, hands reaching up to smooth back David’s hair, cradling around the back of his head while they kissed. 

The kisses were slower now, a simmering heat instead of the burning it had been. Pierre’s tongue dragged over his teeth, experimentally dipping further and lapping at his mouth. His breath came in spurts, his hands stalled on Pierre’s back as the kiss smoldered down his spine. He didn’t remember it ever being this good. 

Another moment later, after David’s head was absolutely spinning with the kisses, Pierre dropped his hands from behind his head and carefully peeled his shirt off. His wolf pendant was cold against his chest as it settled back into place, and Pierre made no move to take it off, instead dropping his hands to David’s waist. 

He twisted away for just a moment, pulling Pierre’s shirt over his head and easily undoing his belt. They shared another kiss, moving closer to the bed then, as they kicked off their shoes and socks, then finally both discarded their jeans. 

Pierre reached for David, bringing him in for a close kiss as their legs hit the edge of the mattress. The bed was still perfectly made, but that would change in a minute. They stood together in the silence of the hotel room, lips trembling after the kiss and hands unsure and unsteady. There was no going back from this if they followed through. 

He met Pierre’s eyes, trying to make him see the truth, but lust won out. It always would. 

Pierre sprawled back onto the bed, pulling David with him, the younger man easily settling onto his lap, hands light over his chest and shoulders. 

His head dipped down to kiss along the clavicle, tongue tracing the exposed ridge. 

Pierre cupped David’s ass, his eyes closing as he yielded underneath his friend, ready for whatever David wanted to give him. He’d held himself back for so long, had denied himself and rejected every temptation that came from the younger man – until now. Now he was powerless. He’d given into his worst impulses tonight, and he would life with whatever consequence came. It had been a living hell to always be so close to David, yet so absolutely far away. It wasn’t fair, and worse was that he knew it was all his fault. He’d been the one to fall in love, to push David aside and move on, to start a family and begin a whole new life on the west coast. He couldn’t help what his heart wanted, and most nights the thoughts of his wife and daughters were enough, but not tonight. 

Tonight they were the furthest thing from his mind. All he could see now were the caramel colored eyes hovering so close to his face, the perfectly tanned, bronze skin that disguised all the scars he knew every story to, and the shock of brown hair, spilling effortlessly over the sculpted forehead and shadowing those exquisite eyebrows. 

Oh fuck. David was torture, and he was a dead man walking. 

David licked across Pierre’s chest, his tongue teasing each nipple relentlessly into arousal before moving down, swirling around his naval, and following the happy trail right to his target. He rubbed his nose along the warm expanse of skin just above Pierre’s briefs, feeling him shiver in anticipation. This had been a long time coming, and no he was definitely not above making that pun. 

He smirked to himself as he hooked his fingers in Pierre’s underwear and pulled them down, his dick already dripping. He dropped the briefs beside the bed and skimmed his hands along the singer’s sides, watching his stomach strain under the touch. It hadn’t been hyperbole how much Pierre wanted him, his taut erection was proof enough. 

For a second their eyes locked, David looking up at Pierre through his eyelashes, and then it was happening. 

Oh fuck. It was happening. 

David’s mouth went down on Pierre’s dick, sucking and licking and stroking, and it felt so, so good. 

His hands fisted David’s hair, his eyes screwed shut as raw pleasure overcame him. 

His movements were easy and sure, his mouth working the man’s dick harder and harder. His hands drifted from the sides, to his hips, to his thighs, then to right beside his groin. 

He moaned, legs closing slightly as he felt the faint stubble on the inside of his thighs and then on his balls. Oh. Oh fuck. “David…” Pierre moaned, stretching out the syllables in the silence, his fingers tightening in the short hair. 

David sucked hard, pulling his mouth up the shaft as his fingers teased the balls. He darted his tongue out as he went back down and Pierre convulsed, curses flying from his lips with every little twitch. David didn’t stop, even though he could hardly breathe; he knew Pierre was close. He sucked up, then easily swallowed again, his rhythm steady before he executed his final move. His hands dragged down Pierre’s thighs, creeping past his dick, then the balls, caressing gently between his legs, and then…

“Ohhh… oh fuck me… David,” he moaned, feeling the man’s fingers dragging down the crack. He inhaled shortly, nerves firing with each tiny sensation until… “David…” He exhaled, body shaking as he orgasmed, every muscle straining with pleasure. His back arched off the bed, stretching into David’s mouth as he climaxed, blood pulsing recklessly through his dick. 

He swallowed everything, reaching his hands around Pierre’s ass as he finished, squeezing until all movement had ceased and he sat up, chest heaving for air. The older man smiled at him drowsily, smoothing back his hair and pulling him down into a kiss. 

David’s mouth tasted like sex and sweat and Pierre kissed him hungrily, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep them close. Their chests thumped in a forgotten competition, as though they hadn’t crossed the finish line yet. 

Pierre kissed David’s cheek, across his jaw, and then beneath his ear, his eyes closed because he was so spent. “Was amazing,” he murmured, unable to make a complete sentence. 

David smiled, dropping a kiss to the man’s shoulder before sitting up slowly, the perfect teasing rebuttal on his lips, but it was in vain. Pierre’s arms fell lifelessly away from him and he held back his disappointed sigh. 

He was already asleep. 

David shook his head and slipped off Pierre, silently going to the bathroom to take his contacts out before he went to bed. It definitely wasn’t the first time the singer had left him with blue balls, and probably not the last. He pulled the blanket over himself after he turned out the light, and fell into a fitful sleep, not sure how he felt with how the night had turned out, but knowing that this time it was easier not to care. 

He woke abruptly to the sound of his phone alarm, the peppy marimba tune begging to be silenced as he pried his eyes open and flung out an arm, groping blindly for the offending mobile. As his fingers closed around the phone, he became aware of three things: he definitely hadn’t set his alarm last night, the blackout curtain was still open and sun filtered in through the sheer panel, and Pierre was nowhere to be found. 

He sat up, squinting to make out the bathroom in the mirror across from it, but the door seemed to be wide open and the light off. Apparently the singer had made a stealth exit while he’d still been asleep, but that was probably for the best. 

He flopped back onto the bed, eyes going to the ceiling; what the fuck had they done last night? 

David couldn’t help thinking, with Pierre leaving like he had, that they weren’t going to talk about it again. Maybe it was just a one-off thing – a weird one-night fling on this radio tour, never to be mentioned again. He could deal with that. He knew how it was to give into all those temptations, then bottle them all back up again (looking at you, Italy). Sometimes you just needed to blow off steam and maybe this hadn’t been the best way for Pierre to handle it, but it was over now. He wasn’t going to dwell on it, especially since there was something else he needed to attend to, and it was best taken care of in the shower. 

Forty-five minutes later he exited the elevator and walked through the lobby, the space a bit busier than it had been at midnight. He stopped at the small coffee bar and poured himself a small cup, taking it black since there was definitely no soy or coconut milk available. He walked out to the van a minute later and Jeff gave him a smile. 

“Hey,” the guitarist greeted him. “How was the rest of your night?” 

David waited a moment, taking a sip of the coffee, anticipating the barb about he and Pierre. It didn’t happen. “Uh, fine,” he finally replied. 

“Yeah? You guys left a little early…” 

He nodded. “I needed to get food… didn’t want to be hungover as fuck today.” 

Jeff laughed. “Mission successful then?” 

“Yeah. Taco truck to the rescue.” 

They shared a smile then, even though David was still waiting for… for what? It was clear that Jeff didn’t suspect a thing. Everything between he and Pierre had happened so long ago and had been put out of sight, out of mind. There was no reason for anyone to believe that it was going to happen again. 

David suppressed the sudden giddy feeling rising in his stomach. Holy shit. They were going to get away with it this time, because absolutely no one suspected otherwise. He took a long drink of the coffee, nearly half the cup. This was a fucking game changer. 

“All right well, as soon as Pierre gets here, we’re headed out,” Jeff told him. 

He nodded, finishing off the coffee before stowing his small suitcase in the trunk with their other gear. “Sure thing,” he said, shrugging out of his backpack and slinging it between the back passenger seats. He offered Seb a wave before going back into the hotel; he needed another cup of coffee for the road. 

Just as he stopped at the coffee bar, a familiar shadow fell over him. He looked up, meeting Pierre’s bright eyes. “Hey.” 

The singer smiled. “Hey. Wake up okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” he replied slowly. “Funny though… I don’t remember setting my alarm.” 

He continued to smile. “Yeah, funny…” He nodded at the coffee bar. “Bring me a cup?” 

“Sure.” He tried not to let his disappointment show in his voice, because if Pierre wasn’t going to acknowledge what had happened _at all_ then this had definitely been a one-time thing. It didn’t matter that they’d gotten away with it free and clear, he just didn’t want to be shunned like that. All he wanted was a nod, or a remark, or something. 

He turned back to the table, but his eyes caught with Pierre’s and the older man winked. 

Oh fuck. 

That. 

That was what he’d been waiting for. It wasn’t just all in his head, and oh shit this was absolutely not just a one-time thing. They were going to do this. They were totally going to fucking do this. 

Pierre grinned as he walked away, humming to himself. 

As the singer reached the door, David could just make out the tune. 

Daydream Believer. 

Oh fuck. They were so in for it. 

****

\- - FIN - -


End file.
